How I Fight With My Husband
I wanted to take a moment and talk about Dover. He gets just a little airtime on this blog but, it usually takes the form of an online love letter professing all my undying emotions for the greatest husband and dad in the world. If you’d like to see that, you can go here and here. Evidence of him being a wonderful husband and dad here:
This will not be that type of post. In this post, you will learn the one source of tension in our relationship. The one thing, that, no matter what, *always* and I do mean ALWAYS causes a fight.
Picture this: You are the matriarch of a small family of three. You have taken this role with great pride and great honor. You love being a wife and mother. You cook, you clean, you smile when you see poo stains in your husband’s underwear. It’s all part of being married and learning what joy it is to have a hulking, hairy, football-loving man in your life.
You watch him pick his nose, flick it and smile. (That doesn’t really happen. I don’t really smile, but I’m painting a picture here. A lovely, little, small-family-of-three-white-picket-fence picture.) I get it. He’s a boy. I’m a girl. Boys are gross and all that.
As a wife, I have few requests of Dover. They are as follows:
- Walk the dog every day. I don’t do that because we live in the city, our dog has the brain of a puppy and he pulled me down once when I was pregnant with H. Plus, Dover is just “better at it”. Which is the excuse I’m going with here because frankly, it’s the excuse he uses when I ask him why he’s never cleaned the bathroom in the two and a half years we’ve lived in San Francisco.
- Take out the trash. Let’s face it, that is and will always be “Man’s Work”. Again, I scrub the toilet, he can take out the trash. Fair trade, in my opinion.
- GO WITH ME TO THE EVER-LOVING GROCERY STORE ON SATURDAYS. Why am I shouting this? Because that is what happens when I bring up the G-word. A fight.
I tell him we need to go to the store and he says one or a combination of the following:
“AGAIN?!”, “WE JUST WENT!”, “NO!”, “WHAT DO WE HAVE TO GET?”, “I’M NOT GOING.”, and my personal favorites: The Huffing and Puffing While Intentionally Avoiding Eye Contact and “GEEZE, BABE, WE DON’T NEED ALL THAT!”
Does this happen to any other woman or is it just me? Should I join him in his misery and just sit down in the middle of the grocery store aisle and say, “BUT I DON’T WANNNNNA GROCERY SHOP ANYMORE!!!!”? Maybe?
Love this print on Etsy! Perfect for H’s Big Girl Room!
Dear Harley Cat, 15 Months (Almost)
Dear Harley Catherine,
It’s been months since I last wrote you (two and a half to be exact) and you’re a whole new kid now - not a baby, but a kid. I’ve said before that you’re gaining your own little personality, but I’m convinced at this point, you’re a little tiny version of your father… if your father had a big, wild & curly mess of hair on his head and liked to wear dresses.
You know you’re not supposed to do things and with a stubbornness seen from me in younger years, you do it anyway. For instance your penchant for the bathroom sink with a travel toothbrush in both hands you look at me like, “No, Mom, you were in the bathroom pulling things out of forbidden cabinets. I just got these travel toothbrushes at Walgreens.”
You.are.a.ham. You like to dance, walk backwards and as of today, there’s a little march/spring in your step. In our usual morning routine, I get ready and you get into things you’re not supposed to. As you pulled the wall mount to our newest gadget out of the box, you held it in both hands and marched to the beat of your own drum. You giggled while you did it, which made me giggle. When you realized you made me laugh, you kept at it. This, by far, is my favorite thing about you: you like to make us laugh.
You’ll hide behind the couch and peek up and wait for us to yell “peek a boo!!” and then laugh. While I’m mentioning your laugh - it’s a spectacular one. In the words of one of your Aunties, you “sound like a 70 year-old smoker.” (Dear Readers, Harley doesn’t smoke)
The ever-popular “Bedroom Drawers Pick-Up” is your favorite game and mine too! I love picking up after you all day! I could spend hours doing it!
You run, screaming from the kitchen because you’re terrified of the blender and yet you try to ride the vacuum. Teach me how your brain works, tiny child! You shake your head no when you really mean yes. You put buckets on your head and you like to carry around my water bottles from the gym.
You require food be given in pairs - one piece for each hand and we’re still working on the fork/spoon. So far, you’d rather just shovel it in your mouth with your hands. Hope this changes before you go to high school because that’ll be embarrassing! Semi-related: You are A MESS. You always have food on your face/your clothes/your hair.
I have to say that even though you’re messy, loud and sometimes really smelly, I’m happy to be on this ride with you. You’re the light of our lives, little girl!
Harley has a shiner :( (Taken with Instagram)
This is the hardest candy to understand. And I’ve tried to understand a lot of candy. (Taken with Instagram)
This Vital Baby Straw Sipper cup is life-changing. This is the only one that Harley will drink from. Apparently, it’s the only straw cup a lot of kids under two will use since it’s sold out until the end of September on Amazon.
But, the nice thing about Amazon is you can buy it now and they’ll ship it to you once they get more in stock.
A Whole Lot of Firsts
It turns out when you have a toddler, you are infinitely more busy than you are when you have a baby. A baby’s talents include: sitting and eating. A toddler insights tiny heart attacks every, single day. Especially now that she is beginning to RUN.
Here are a few recent pics of her and a whole lot of firsts as we went on her first road trip for a family reunion.
First Airplane Ride (on which she could walk):
First time walking around her Godparents’ house:
First time walking around Meemaw and Pawpaw’s house:
First time at Walmart and “driving” the cart:
First Yo Gabba Gabba Viewing Party with (only part) of her cousins:
Her FIRST best friend and cousin, Matthew:
Her first time on top of a refrigerator…
Her first pair of shoes:
Her first time at a jungle gym:
Let Her Eat Cake… for Breakfast
When I was younger, my mother made a very big deal of birthdays in our house. We got to pick out our cake,
stay home from school, and generally do any and everything we wanted. I fully plan to carry on that tradition with Harley. So, what better time to begin than on her very first birthday?
As it turns out, I was much more excited for her than I had anticipated. I couldn’t sleep well the night before. So when she sang her usual 6 AM song, I jumped out of bed to greet my TODDLER.
We got her dressed and brought her out to see her small army of toys from us, her god and grandparents:
Then, the good stuff: CAKE FOR BREAKFAST!
Our girl hesitated for about -30 seconds.
At one point we had to tear her away from the icing.
Wonder where she gets it from?